At that moment, I raised my wind horse, not to beg for blessings, but to wait for your arrival.
That day, I closed my eyes in the fragrant mist of the sutra hall and suddenly heard the mantras in your chanting of sutras.
On that day, the mani pile was built not for the purpose of cultivating virtue, but for the purpose of throwing down the stones from the lake of my heart.
That night, I listened to Sanskrit singing all night, not for enlightenment, just to find a trace of your breath.
That month I shook all the prayer wheels, not for salvation, just to touch your fingertips
That year, I kowtowed and prostrated on the mountain road, not to meet you, just to stay close to your warmth.
In that life, I walked around mountains, rivers, and pagodas, not to cultivate the next life, just to meet you on the way.
At that moment, I ascended to immortality, not for immortality, but for your safety and happiness.
——Tsangyang Gyatso